


Home for Moment

by reyshine95



Category: Captain America, Captain America Civil War, MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyshine95/pseuds/reyshine95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief glimpse of Cap and Bucky once on the plane to Wakanda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for Moment

There is a beautiful inevitability that lives with this moment, the idea of being anywhere but where he was seemed like a fantasy so very far away. Torn and broken, bruised and beaten, Captain America had become the symbol of the free world’s downfall. It was a price he was willing to pay, and as he sat within the confines of safety he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with relief. 

The battle had seemingly been won, and at the very least the causalities were nothing Steve couldn’t stomach. T’Challa had been gracious enough to help them away from the ice and the blood. Once Steve had managed to get Bucky seated atop the bench within the plane he focused more so on not passing out in front of the others. His head lulled back into the walling of the inner cabin, bloodied and bruised he was sore and tender. Fractures scattered along his body and for a moment he felt like the tips of his fingers were going numb. 

Steve was use to pain, use to misery, but this overwhelming death defying exhaustion was what drove him into insanity. No one bothered him, not even Bucky who sat near silent next to him nursing his own terrible state. Steve was quiet through take off, his black recoiling only when the plane lofted to the sky. His brow furrowed as he pulled out of the fog and focused on the party next to him. Buck’s eyes were closed as well, thoughts or conscious far off in another world like Steve had been moments before.

He was careful, turning only so slightly to better look at the other. The cabin they were in was secluded for the most part, a small partition separated them from the cockpit, it was however enough to make him feel safer to express his actions. His hand rose, finally pulling the tattered gloves from his knuckles and tossing it to the floor in front of them. The ache in his bones only making his movement more swayed as he seemed almost to rock with the plane itself. By the time he had gotten the other glove off, he reached over to begin working on the jacket that wrapped around his friend. 

Steve moved to grab the material, peeling it slowly off his under layer before feeling a startled intake of breathe. He stopped, gaze turning to his friend only to assure he was safe within his hands. “It’s okay Buck, it’s just me... I’m going to take your jacket and casings off so you can get some sleep.” Steve assured him lightly before he saw the dark brow of the other wince in pain. His hands became still, not moving an inch before he noticed the other half-hazardly scooting himself closer to Steve as if to help him. The blue eyed man stared cautiously before the dark hair fell over his friends face. 

Buck’s head slowly moved down, and before Steve could realize he was a pillow to a heavy headed Bucky Barnes. His eyes were closed, and there was an aching smile that touched the edge of Steve’s lips. He didn’t know where this came from, nor did he imagine when the other awoke it would go over smoothly, however in the brief moments of silence he took the time to run his fingers through the tips of the dark hair. It didn’t take long for the other to fall into a dark sleep, his breathe steadying out once more -- Steve hoped Buck would get some relief in his dreams. 

The quicker they got to safety, the quicker better care could be taken. From what T’Challa advised once Steve got Buck onto the plane, he was in no immediate danger from the injury he had sustained. It wasn’t a real arm, but by the expressions he had been muffling the entire way, Steve knew Bucky was in pain regardless of the fleshless aspects of the arm. Bucky’s head lulled to the side facing away from Steve, but he couldn’t help but stare down at the man in wonder. How many times had he done this when they were younger? Steve was all bone as a kid, and yet Bucky loved nothing more than laying around on the guy.

Apparently after being use to sleeping on floors Bucky preferred the difficult and hard bony patches, and now was different. Steve wasn’t bony anymore, he was larger and covered with more muscles than anything. He wondered vaguely if Bucky knew the difference, but the thought was replaced with the likelihood that this action was probably not thought through at all. Steve sighed after a long moment, he was exhausted along with his friend and now he was reduced to a babysitter and pillow. The smile touched his broken lips then, deciding that he’d much rather be the later than asleep.

His hand cradled the side of Bucky’s head for a moment, brow raising at the warmness that spread through his chest. For a few moments it didn’t matter what darkness lurked outside. Whether they would die in a moment, or in a thousand years, it was 1943 and Steve was home with Bucky in his arms. His eyes closed, he tucking down to press his lips against the hairline of Bucky’s right temple. In his actions there was little movement, but a hovering wish that this moment could never be taken away from him. 

Steve had just gotten Bucky back, and now they were off to god knows where to face whatever battles were yet to come. Yet for these few minutes, sitting on a bench in a freezing plane -- Steve was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Very brief but hope you like it. Probably shit ton of spelling errors because fuck it all.


End file.
